CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Amelia
The way Deacon looks at me as he helps me out of my clothes and bares my body scares me.
Not because it’s bad, but because it’s too good. Too intense. Like he’s trying to prove something to me.
After the way the light went out of his eyes when I told him I’d take away his stress, I’m happy to let him prove anything he wants. Especially if it means we can get back to making each other feel good, and I can stop feeling like a shit for screwing up.
I’m not quite sure what I did, only that I let him down. Because I jumped right to sex instead of continuing to talk? Men love sex, right?
I probably imagined it. I’m too hyper-focused on his every word and move because I’m waiting for him to tell me he saw me with Bryson yesterday. I’m waiting for him to ask me about it, and I still haven’t figured out what to tell him.
But Deacon seems to be done talking as he kisses his way down my body before lifting me in his arms and carrying me back to my bedroom.
He lays me down gently, almost reverently, and my breath gets stuck in my chest. He’s so fucking handsome, and the way he’s looking at me… There was a time in my life when I would have paid every penny in my bank account to have a man look at me this way.
Okay, that time was this morning. But I was having a romantic moment. It’s not realistic for me or for my life to want this to be more than it is.
But it sure is fun to pretend as Deacon slides inside of me, his mouth on mine, his body moving to meet my rhythm. He keeps his eyes open and on mine like he’s looking for something in them, and I let myself wish, for just a moment, that I can be whatever he’s looking for.
We meet our climax together, and he doesn’t close his eyes even while the pleasure is clearly rushing over him and twisting him inside out.
Even as we’re catching our breath, he holds himself over me, studying my face. “So fucking beautiful,” he says, like he’s talking to himself.
I want to grab him and kiss him, but this moment seems too big, too overwhelming. I’m feeling all kinds of things I don’t want to be feeling. I can’t be feeling.
“You should probably take care of the condom,” I say, totally ruining the moment.
His mouth ticks up on one side. “Always practical.” He says it like he thinks it’s cute, even admirable, rather than a total ruination of a romantic moment.
He slips out of me, and I almost beg him to come back, to stay inside me for as long as possible.
I hate the feeling of emptiness as he stands and goes to the bathroom.
By the time he’s back, I’m sitting up on the bed, my robe wrapped around me.
I didn’t have time to get back in my uniform, but I needed some coverage, some barrier between us.
He stops and feigns shock. “I thought you said we have an hour?”
“We do, but—”
He tackles me, pushing me back onto the bed and wrapping himself around me. “I was promised an hour, and I’m getting an hour.”
I can’t resist cuddling up against his warm body and laughing. “We really only have about twenty minutes of that hour left.”
He slides the robe off my shoulder and kisses it gently. “I want every one of those twenty minutes. You have somewhere you need to be?”
“No.”
“So, tell me about your day. I can tell you managed not to get sprayed by a skunk this morning. Any other interesting encounters?”
Before I can start my story, Marmalade hops on the bed and curls up against my stomach.
Deacon pets him. “Marmalade wants to hear your story too.”
“Do you think he was in here the whole time?”
“Are you embarrassed that your cat might have seen us having sex?”
“I’m not embarrassed, just…” My hand bumps Deacon’s as I pet Marmalade, and he laces our fingers together, guiding mine over Marmalade’s fur. “Isn’t it weird to think we might have had an audience?”
Deacon chuckles against my shoulder. “I’m not worried—”
“Hello? Amelia?” My mom’s voice rings out through the house. “Are you inside?”
“Momma?” Harper’s voice echoes my mother’s.
I freeze in panic. I’ve confronted vicious dogs and been clawed by cats. I’ve been face to face with a growling opossum. I’ve never felt more terrified than I do at this moment.
Deacon doesn’t freeze. He leaps into motion. He jumps out of bed, pulls on his jeans in one second and has his t-shirt over his head in the next. “Get in the shower.”
I just stare at him, totally confused.
“Do it, Amelia. Now.”
With no idea on earth why, I do what he says, because there’s no way in hell I’m getting my uniform on before Harper or my mother comes into my room. And I don’t have any better ideas.
“I’ll cover for you,” Deacon whisper-yells as he leaves my room.